Watching Her
by KiyaMadarame
Summary: Let time be blamed for those thoughts in his mind... Ichihime, rated M for safety... Formerly called "A Taste of Orange and Strawberry"
1. Dreams

**It only took a few days. **

**From desiring to be desired, the road is fast and easier than he'd think, especially when the girl liked you in the first place... OrangeStrawberry**

Dreams

* * *

_The sheets were fleeting, between the flesh, over and under their bodies. White sheets, that suited her better. Her red hair laid all over the pure white cloth. Pure white, like her soul, like the look in her eyes, like her voice. _

_Time passed in slow-motion__ for them, and she was whispering to his ear. Did she know what she was saying? Her words ended like a complaint, and he gazed into her eyes with a soft smile. He didn't know her face could get redder than it was before. She seemed ashamed of the words she just said, still her toes curled up harder caressing his skin, restless. She seemed on the break of fainting, her heart melting along with her body. It was like her soul laid there open, and he could read her mind and see how badly she was about to go crazy, having _him_ looking her in the eyes _like that_ when they were doing _this_. She bit her lower lip and turned her head on the side. His mouth was down on her neck, giving the most longing kisses. Her fine back curled in his, her delicate hands running over his arms. _

_Sometimes see her like this made him want to mess her a little more. She was still holding back, not wanting to make much noise. If he __did it properly, maybe he could tear a loud, deep, tender cry from her lips. And maybe she'd say out loud the things she had in mind. He smiled brightly, like he almost never did before, and kissed her cheek. The princess was the cutest. Let him be the punk sneaking into her room when nobody was looking. _

_Brown eyes ope__ned slowly, the vision blurred, the mind troubled. The room was all orange because of the setting sun outside. Was it a dream?_

He was feeling weird, worn out, almost feverish, even though it had just been a dream. He felt hot. "Orihime…" he whispered, staring at his arm lying on the white sheets. Suddenly, his eyes shot open as he realized what he had just been dreaming about. Cheeks wildly flushed, he took his head in his hand. "Oh gosh…" Now he was becoming a crazy twisted pervert like Kon. He shrugged at the thought of a stupid, but scary-looking him chasing Orihime like a mad dog. Sweat rolled down his temples as he stared nervously at his surroundings. Thank God, nobody was there. He started to relax, trying not to think about the dream. By all means, he had to take it away from his head. He needed to think. Not that he had anything special to think about… The hardest thing when you wake from that kind of dream is to think about something else. He decided for a cold shower, undressing in slow movements, too sleepy to move faster, but awake enough not to let his eyes fall on his body. He didn't really want to see himself now.

The cold water felt good on his skin, it was relaxing. From the shower, he heard his cell phone ring.


	2. Drunken Her

Drunken Her

* * *

"Never allow the shinigami – Matsumoto, for instance – to organize parties. Never attend such parties, _ever._" Ichigo swore to himself, looking around at the pandemonium. When he had received a call from a weird-sounding Rukia inviting him to a party in Keigo's house, he had started to worry, as for having heard stories involving drunken Matsumoto, Ikkaku, Yumichika and other shinigami of the same crew, he knew it would be a total mess. And it surely was. Every single one of the people present was drunk. He noticed that Toushiro was nowhere to be seen, though. Smart kid. And they had managed to get Orihime drunk too. The shadow of a chuckle appeared in his throat, before being suppressed. He coughed and regained his composure. 

Ikkaku and Yumichika were playing thumb war, drunk-excited looks on their faces, Keigo's sister cheering loudly for the bald shinigami. "Not a very beautiful sight", Ichigo grumbled. Keigo was sitting on the floor beside the other three, staring into empty space. Renji and Rukia were obviously wasted, half sitting, half lying in a corner, uttering nonsense about childhood to zanpakutou to juice pack to nobility and other stuff at the same time. They didn't seem aware of any of the things happening around them. Chad was lying on his back near the balcony, his face a bright shade of red, eyes closed, totally motionless. Matsumoto and Orihime were singing or better, yelling and dancing around the room, looking like they would crash on the floor every second. A drunken Orihime looked much like the regular one, but she was _way_ hyper. As expected, they did fall, and Ichigo ran to catch his classmate, disregarding the older girl… and ending up sitting on the floor himself. "Heaven's punishment for making this mess." The teenager mumbled to the irresponsible vice-captain lying unconscious a meter away.

The girl in his arms was still singing (yelling). Apparently, she was yet to realise that her dancing partner wasn't singing anymore, and that she was now positioned horizontally. "Oi, Inoue… my ears…" She startled and stared at him, oblivious to the fact that she was still singing (yelling). Eventually, she stopped, and next thing, she was hugging him. He blushed, and the color on his face was getting worse every second, seeing that she was now staring at him, her face inches from his. He didn't see her make such a serious face often. She looked like a representative making a speech at the National Assembly. "Hey, Inoue…" he started with a nervous laugh. Too much tension. He needed something to lighten the atmosphere, fast. Unwanted flashes from a certain dream started to pop in his head. She kept staring but the expression in her face was slowly changing; now she looked a bit sad. Her eyes fell to his lips, in an unbearably slow movement. He had to say something _now_, but the words died in his throat at the way she looked at him when he opened the mouth to speak. Now he could hear her heart beating wildly. She looked like she was seeing his mouth for the first time. He was trying not to look at hers himself.

And then, she just curled in his arms and let her head rest on his chest and fell asleep.

He looked uneasily around the room. Everybody was sleeping, some were sneezing surprisingly loudly. He could see Keigo's legs slipping through the bathroom door. He wanted to move and take a walk to breathe some fresh air into his brain.

"Baka." he whispered to himself.

"Gomen", she replied in her sleep.

He frowned, cheeks flushed, looking away. Thanking God that nobody was seeing him in his actual state.


	3. Things He'd Want to Tell Her

**Thanks fo all the reviews and sorry for the late update and title changes...** **Thoughts never stop to evolve, do they? ;p**

Things He'd Want to Tell Her

* * *

If they were together, there are a many things that he'd want to tell her... 

That he wants to touch her, no matter what part of her body that would be, he's willing to take anything. Even if it was only running his hand through her hair, just like that, with no reason. Just for the pure bliss of touching her.

All the things that pop in his mind when he lays his eyes on her daydreaming self. He wished he was a ghost to silently come floating behind her and whisper in her ear all those things he'd like to do to her. His brain seems to never want to run out of ideas on the subject.

That he did notice the way she changed over the years: In her character, but also in her physical appearance. Her curves that became more and more feminine to the point of insanity… He knows he's just a regular late-teenager fantasizing; he really tried to do something about it and act cool about it, but in the end he's losing against himself.

That he's a horny beast. That he avoids her at lunch time because seeing her taking a mouthful drives him over the edge; that his body craves for her, aches for her, and that his dreams are all about it.

That he's jealous and bitter when he thinks about her with another guy. That it would break him in pieces if she were to fall for someone else. Ask her if she would want to be in love with him and let him be hers mind, body, and soul... and body.

But because he knows he's not only a horny beast, but also a true friend who cares, and because he would never want to risk to hurt her and make a fool of himself, there's no way he'd ever let her know of those things.


	4. Restless

Restless

* * *

Maybe she's a total freak, and maybe it's just time making its effects on her. She understands. Her eyes fall on his lips, once again, and she's powerless against the fantasies that assault her mind.

Her fingers on his lips.

Her lips on his.

His lips on her, and more;

She laughs bitterly to herself at how powerless she is against her own brain. Fighting back hurts, so she gives in to the obsessionnal thoughts.

-

She's so weak. Her mind mercilessly tortures her all day long, every week worse than the previous, when he's as peaceful and clueless as one could possibly be.

That is not fair.

A sweat drop runs along his jaw to his neck; it fuses with other sweat drops over his throat, then heads for the skin under his t-shirt. She averts her eyes, cheeks flushed in shame, but it's been a while now that seeing is unnecessary. She followed those lines a hundred times. Base of his neck, down to his torso to the belly button, to the hips caught in the rim of his tracking pants.

She tries to be firm and order for the torture to end there, but it doesn't.

-

Weakness leads to misery. Desperately wanting something that you can't have. Unfulfillable desires. Dreams that wouldn't come true, and that she wouldn't dare seizing, even if they were handed to her.

She wakes up in the dead of the night from yet another unconfessable fantasy, sweaty and confused, ashamed yet feverish, whispering his name to the pillows, restless. She reaches across the sheets, wondering if he'll appear under her hand, just for the night. She secretly wishes he was a pervert enough to sneak into her room and make her his.

He happens not to be.


End file.
